One Man's Trash.
1:16 PM. Sitting on my bed looking out the window three stories up. Garbage is toted out of the unit and tossed into these large Rubbermaid-type "dumpsters." While the garbage is in large clear plastic bags, it is certainly not a pleasant job to go rummaging through it. You ask why would that be an issue?
Well, actually it is two issues. The first is the rule of one man's trash is another's treasure. Ah, that reminds me of my teenage years walking the streets of Brooklyn, NY. But that will be another post.
The sport we inmates around here call dumpster diving is practiced by a certain group of inmates hoping to find some treasure that they can then sell to another inmate. Certain group, you ask? Yes, certain they will find something.
Sometimes they are able to salvage stuff that was confiscated from inmates leaving the chow hall, tossed into the garbage can, and then when transferred to the dumpster, and as the dumpster is emptied into the trash compactor, the inmates responsible for that process have been known to pick out the goodies (nice run-on sentence).
Well, the second "rummager" (yes, this is a single inmate) is the Recycler. Since "they" know how many cans of soda they sell each week in the commissary and they noticed the amount of cans being bagged as recycles, the powers that be figured out they should have an inmate go through the trash bags and remove the cans.
It should be noted that each of the twelve units has a large garbage can marked as a recycle bin for all cans. The problem is that inmates choose to defy authority and continue to dump cans in the regular trash. The staff is not much better, since the aforementioned Recycler also manages to salvage a bunch of plastic soda bottles, which can only come from staff.
So even though every inmate knows we have a recycle program and most have seen the Recycler, wearing his yellow rubber gloves and his plastic glasses, digging through the trash, they do not make his job easier by tossing cans in the proper receptacle.
So here I sit, watching the leaves fall from the trees, every once in a while a gust of wind pulls a whole slew of leaves off the trees, and I watch a fellow inmate dig through trash.
This is just another example of how even in the simplest aspects, one is not always predisposed to assist a fellow inmate.
Yes, I do put my cans in the recycle bin!